


69 love songs

by eckarius



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consent, Drabble Collection, Dream Sex, Dry Humping, Family Fluff, Fluff, Guitars, Multi, Pegging, Polyamory, Slow Dancing, Wet Dream, alternate universes aplenty, cass and tulip just want jesse to feel comfortable, goth oppression, inspired by the magnetic fields, jesse gets fucked by John Wayne and god, typical vampire garbage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-10-28 07:18:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17783018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eckarius/pseuds/eckarius
Summary: a set of drabbles inspired by each song off of 69 love songs.





	1. Nothing Matters When We’re Dancing

A club with a ballroom was something foreign to Cass. He simply wanted to go to a club and throw Eccarius into the middle of it. Yet, here he is, standing against the wall, drinking champagne from a plastic flute while Eccarius treats a lonely woman to a dance. It’s less a dance, more spinning while they discuss the faults of this generation.

She’s gestured over at Cass at least three times, asking Eccarius why he bothered coming to a ballroom with him, no doubt. At least Cass would agree. He hates the whole vibe here. And yeah, this is one of the places where Eccarius feels most at home, but Cass can’t help but feel a cold, unwelcome stare being placed on him. He sticks out like a sore thumb in some ripped jeans and one of Eccarius’s waistcoats over a graphic shirt among a sea of cocktail dresses and suits.

He downs his champagne, about to pull out his phone and wander into the bathroom. He stops at the sight of Eccarius approaching him, some song playing that could be the same one that started five minutes ago, or this club plays one continuous song.

“May I have this dance?” He holds out his hand, saying the line half-sarcastic, half-serious. Cass appreciates his humour rubbing off onto Eccarius, finally.

Cass shrugs, glancing around at every other couple. “Don’t think I’m even allowed on the dance floor.”

Eccarius shakes his head.

“No, come with me. I’ve never danced with you.” He looks clearly disappointed, even a bit hurt that Cass isn’t following him.

“Do they play anythin’ besides big band?” He’s just trying to deflect his anxieties about being somewhere where everyone judges him, not truly belonging here. Though, it’s probably how Eccarius felt whenever they went to a sex club or any bar that only served beer that could be bought in a six-pack.

This is fair, then. It’s just fair that Cass feels uncomfortable somewhere as rare as this. Yet, he still couldn’t help feeling upset at the waves of judgemental stares. Cass could take angry drunk’s eyes off of Eccarius after a kiss, he could smash a mug on his head, have the patrons chuck darts at his palms. Eccarius couldn’t do the same back. Cass just stuck out too much for his liking, and there was nothing to remedy that.

“I’ll check. Will you dance with me after that?” He seems very confident that he can pick out something. Cass agrees, despite his anxiety.

He takes another bottle of champagne, pouring its contents into his flute, downing one after another until the bottle is empty. He hates champagne, but he’ll take anything to get him even a tad tipsy to dance. He’s not risking Eccarius dancing near-sober (he did smoke some attic insulation with Cass earlier) while he’s still sober himself, and he’ll handle the mocking better if the room is spinning along with him.

He goes for another bottle of champagne, but he’s stopped short when the song is cut off.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a request.” A very prim voice comes over the speakers, and Cass links the voice to a man in a tuxedo, on the stage in front of a microphone. He raises his hands up, before bringing his hand out to Eccarius, standing on the dance floor. “What song do you request?”

Eccarius goes up to the man, covering the microphone before he says anything. This makes Cass laugh, a bit too loud. He hunches over at the feeling of angry eyes turning back to him.

“This song is dedicated to the man in the back.” Eccarius adds, smiling at Cass before he leaves the stage. He rushes back to him, which no one seems to notice.

The band starts playing something slow, sickeningly romantic. He snickers, quietly, and Eccarius holds his hands up to lead. Cass hasn’t done a proper ballroom dance in ages, and he’s never been led before. At least, that he can remember. Cass places his hand in Eccarius’s, his other hand unsure whether to grab his hip or shoulder. Eccarius sets his hand on his hip, so Cass grips his shoulder.

They sway, stepping backwards, forwards, eventually stepping in a circle. He draws nearer, despite them both being pressed together. Eccarius smiles up at Cass. “And you didn’t want to dance,” he laughs.

“Yeah.” Cass grins, he’s starry-eyed. It’s so sappy, but he hasn’t felt like this since Tulip, and who knows where she is now. Fuck, he’s not going to cry now, not in the middle of this crowd of people.

Eccarius brings him closer, wrapping his arms around him and petting the back of his head. He keeps them swaying, it keeps Cass from choking back tears.

When the song ends, Cass is still holding him.

“Don’t cry, Cassidy.” He stands there, waiting for the next song to begin. Once it does, they continue their swaying-twirling thing, and Cass dries his eyes on the back of his hand. 

They resume with their original position, Eccarius’s hand on Cass’s hip and Cass’s on his shoulder. Cass has utterly forgotten the crowd, right here, in this moment, he and Eccarius are swaying in a candle-lit room staring at each other with dumb smiles on their faces. He’ll have time to think about Tulip later, like he always does. He has eternity to linger on his mistakes.

“Thank yeh, luv.” It’s a strange thing to call him. He’s only ever called him Eccarius, or “pretentious arsehat,” an insult that became a term of endearment. “Luv” never came to mind for him, it used to be only reserved for women. But, he kind of likes it for him.

“‘Luv?’” He grins, rubbing it in. Cass’s smile is close-lipped, he goes starry-eyed again.

Cass chuckles, imagining Eccarius lifting him up and spinning him in the air. He brings himself closer, kissing Eccarius’s temple, then his lips. Eccarius looks like he’s blushing, glowing in some way. Even though he hated the crowd and the atmosphere, he loves the dancing.


	2. Bonus: This is Why Kevin Ate Eccarius’s Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bonus drabble that didn’t fit any of the songs, but i thought it should be included too.

“Kevin, stand right there, please. I wish to make a point to Cassidy.” Eccarius has his arm draped over Cass’s shoulder, rubbing it every now and then. He gestures with his other hand, the frills on his sleeve whorling about his wrists.

Kevin, unironically wearing an Evanescence shirt (Cass was told matter-of-factly that they’re his favourite band, and that he has some fantasy of Amy Lee joining Les Enfants) tucked into the skinniest pin-striped Hot Topic jeans, stands in front of Cass and Eccarius and grimaces, just faintly enough to be ambiguous. He turns his look from Cass to Eccarius, watching him.

“Repeat after me,” Eccarius’s voice is the same grandiose, overbearing, bombast performance as always. He tends to let it die when he’s alone with Cass, but he can’t speak casually in front of his “children.” Though, they wouldn’t notice much of a difference, if any.

Eccarius tips his forehead forward, his eyes locked on Kevin. Cass isn’t sure if Kevin was just nearby, or if he’d be a good example of the power of a glamour. Truly, any of his “children” were too in love with him for this to be a good demonstration. He didn’t have to use a glamour on them. If he asked Kevin to come over and first him in front of every other dumb soul in Les Enfants, they would watch on, utterly star-struck. And none of that would surprise Cass.

Cass can’t see what Eccarius is doing, he just looks like he’s staring at Kevin. “Look, mate, I don’t think it’s worki—” Mid-sentence, Kevin drew near, and Eccarius cups the back of his head, kissing him only to show that he could. Cass scowls at the display. When Eccarius pulls back, he smirks at Cass.

“That’s all there is to it.” He steps back over to Cass, that smirk still stuck on his face. “Now, do exactly what I did.”

Cass gives Eccarius a dumbfounded stare.

“I have to glamour him?” Cass gestures to Kevin, then waves his hand at Kevin. “No offense, Kev, yer great. But this isn’t a fair test, yeh understand me, right?”

Eccarius chuckles in the back of his throat, grinning at Cass. “It’s a fair test, I assure you. Do you think  _ I’m  _ interested in Kevin?”

Kevin frowned, looking down at the floor.

“Fine. I’ll try.”

He adjusts himself to stand parallel to Kevin, he clenches and unclenches his fists. Cass follows the forehead gesture Eccarius did, maybe that’s the key to getting it to work. He stares.

It only takes seconds for his glamour attempt to end. “I’m not kidding him,” Kevin’s voice is stern as he looks to Eccarius.

“Kevin!” Eccarius booms, and Cass turns to him.

“The feck is that supposeta mean?” He isn’t trying to sound accusatory, but it comes out that way, anyway.

Eccarius flattens his lips into a line. “Promise you won’t be cross with me.”

“Heh heh,” Kevin laughs, only to be glared away to another part of the basement.

“Well, Cassidy, I had a deal with Kevin. I wanted you to attempt a glamour, Kevin promised he’d kiss you to encourage you to excel at your vampiric abilities.” Cass scoffs, turning away from him.

“Don’t try ta glamour me into kissing yeh. I’ll deck yeh in two seconds flat.” Cass looks back to the Les Enfants members, gathered around the pool table and chattering amongst themselves.

Eccarius tried to get Cass to look back at him. Yet, Cass is determined to keep looking away.

“Would you like to try to glamour me?” That makes Cass turn back, one eyebrow cocked nearly up to his hairline. Eccarius has to be bluffing. He waits to see if Eccarius is joking, yet it seems to be that he isn’t. Then again, Eccarius is the kind of person who doesn’t understand how to make a joke.

Cass wants to laugh, yet Eccarius just seems to be waiting for him to get prepared. He wants to call the “children” over to watch, yet he can already feel eyes on his back, and on Eccarius.

Though, he decides to simply continue without giving them a better angle. He stands across from him, smirking and tipping his forehead towards Eccarius (of course, as some sort of way to make fun of him). He feels so smug, his smirk turn shite-eating. He stares Eccarius down.

“Yeh have ta be joking, yeh just want me teh look like a moron—” Eccarius practically jumps at Cass, resting one hand on the back of his head and the other on his jaw, cupping it. Cass smiles into the kiss, he places both of his hands on Eccarius’s hips. Cass tilts his head just slightly, and he keeps their kiss gentle for just a moment, before he makes it only a tad rougher. He bites Eccarius’s lip, teasing it between his teeth. Cass pulls back, and Eccarius pecks him on the lips quickly, just before Cass has completely let go.

He smirks at Eccarius, who turns to his “children” (Cass still hates the name), gesturing to Cass.

“And this is what you can achieve once you become a child of blood. Even if you’ve only turned one, you can harness power beyond your wildest dreams.” He stops short, Cass felt like there should have been some more pretentious rambling after that. He dismisses them to leave, and looks back to Cass.

“Not even I lied to me own kid.” Cass leans against the pool table.

“But you felt more powerful than you ever have before?” Eccarius stands beside Cass.

“Sure, mate.” Cass smirks down at Eccarius, and his arm finds its way snaking around Cass, testing on his hip.

“Sublime.” Eccarius squeezes Cass’s hip.

“Quit it.” Cass nudges him gently. “Just say ‘good’ once in a while.”


	3. Underwear

Jesse leans back on his elbows, the motel room is hazy with smoke. The whorls of gray make Cass and Tulip blurry, their two figures melting together. She’s already taken Cass’s shirt off, Jesse can’t even make out the tattoos laced across his body, or the dazed look on his face when Tulip grabs him close, her nails digging into his skin. Though, he knows for a fact Tulip is smirking as she slips one arm around his neck, kissing his jaw and the side of his throat. Cass is utterly shocked, and it makes Jesse grin.

Tulip leans into Cass’s ear, asking something slow and sultry and quiet that Jesse can’t make out. He chuckles, sitting up now, and the smoke lets up. Tulip looks like she’s slinking against Cass like he’s a gnarled tree trunk, one of his hands rests on the small of her back, petting it gently while she kisses his neck.

Jesse brings himself to the edge of the bed, still watching with a pleased look on his face. He didn’t know when his anger towards Cass faded, but in the past few weeks, he’s really been getting adjusted to being involved with Cass and Tulip, along with them being involved with each other. To the point where he heard them having sex earlier that week, and had to hide that he was both awake and palming himself beneath the covers. Jesse chuckled at the sound of Tulip grunting and panting while Cass moaned and pleaded for her to “keep going, luv.” He turned on his side when the noise stopped, and they both slipped out of the bathroom. He did manage to hide that he was awake until Cass and Tulip got into bed on either side of Jesse, and she chuckled at his wife eyes staring at her through the dark. She joked that the shower was noisy. It was times like that, they helped Jesse adjust to being in a relationship with two other people.

Now, he’s being invited to have sex with both of them. Jesse hasn’t done anything with Cass beyond a blowjob back in Annville, how is he supposed to compare? At the very least, he can’t be any worse than Fiore.

Tulip coaxes him to come closer until Cass just falls onto Jesse, grinning and laughing breathlessly. He sits on Jesse’s lap, his hands gripping Jesse’s shoulders.

“Yer nervous, pardre.” He murmurs, trying to be low so Tulip won’t hear and mock him for it. Jesse looks past Cass, he can’t see her. She managed to disappear into the shadows.

“You really think I’d be nervous?” His voice is hoarse, and his eyes slip down Cass’s chest to rest on his briefs. When he first saw Cass like this, he didn’t even take a second glance. He was more fascinated by their clothes sloshing around in bloody suds. But, as he looks at his thighs and his hips, he can’t imagine why he wasn’t stuck on watching Cass.

Cass kisses Jesse, drawing his attention away from his briefs. This alone is another first for Jesse. It’s not like there were many boys around in his life he’d ever wanted to kiss, and when he first met Cass he wasn’t willing to do anything like that (sober, at least). He loves the sound of Cass moaning, and he grabs his ass when Cass goes silent.

Cass’s tongue tastes like stale pot and cheap whiskey, it’s also longer than he expected it to be. He’d make some remark about how many places that tongue has likely been, yet he doesn’t want to let it leave his mouth just yet. His own tongue briefly explores Cass’s mouth, he tastes the pot and whiskey stronger than before, and his tongue brushed against sharp fangs and just as sharp molars.

“You’re like a shark, Cass,” he chuckles, and Cass brings him back in for another round.

They’re both lying on the bed, staring up at the cracked motel ceiling and reaching out their hands to touch each other’s torsos and arms. Jesse has his fingers brushing across Cass’s nipple when Tulip emerges from the bathroom.

Jesse has always loved her wearing red, and he loves her wine-colored bra and panties. They look like they could be lace, but he’d only know if they were laid out on their own. Though, he’s also ignoring the focal point of this picture (besides Tulip herself): the strap-on hanging from her hips.

“This thing was a bitch to get on,” she says more to herself than Jesse or Cass.

Jesse looks to Cass for what expression to wear in response, yet Cass is just smirking back at him.

“C’mon, Jesse! We’ve been planning this.” Tulip frowns at Jesse’s lack of reaction. She throws her hands down, off her hips.

“Yeah, pardre, don’t leave her hanging.” Cass leans against Jesse.

“I’ve been pegged before, Cass.” His voice is still low, like a purr.

Tulip sits beside him, slinging one leg over Jesse’s thigh. “It’s been ages, Jesse.” The translucent purple dildo pokes his hip.

Jesse furrows his brow, all of a sudden he’s hesitating to do something he used to beg for Tulip to do to him. Maybe it’s Cass added into the mix, he can’t really tell. But now he’s lying back, Tulip and Cass sitting over him.

“How’re ya gonna do it?” He looks between the both of them. He expects mocking laughter, yet all he gets is Tulip’s hand on his cheek and Cass’s reassuring grin.

“However you want, babe. We don’t want you backin’ out ‘cuz we pushed you too far too fast.” Tulip’s voice is warm, like when they were kids, when she’d comfort him while he choked through tears. His heart flutters a bit, it’s kind of surreal.

“Thanks, Tulip.” He smiles at her, Cass doing the same at him.

“I’ll go to town on yeh once yer ready, Jess.”

Jesse smirks.

“Like hell.” He nudges Cass, kissing him and Tulip. “I’m goin’ to town on you in no time.”

Tulip falls down on top of him, kissing him again.

“Let’s take it one step at a time. Dry humping?” She’s put on a more breathy voice, and Jesse knows he can’t resist her when she speaks like that.

“Yeah! I haven’t done any dry humping since the sixties.” Cass sounds nostalgic, yet he doesn’t give it anymore through once he collapses on top of them, making some horny heap of people who probably should get over dry-humping, yet refuse to for the time being.


	4. Acoustic Guitar

“Remember when you played me guitar before bed?”

Alice leans over the kitchen table, her big blue eyes locked on Emily. She’s coated in caked-on dirt and grass stains from soccer practice, her ponytail from earlier that morning was undone and messy around her head like a halo of dirty blonde hair.

Emily turns to look back at her, smiling close-lipped at her. “Yeah. That was your dad’s guitar, you know? He played songs for me on it when we were in high school.” She picks up another plate, scrubbing it with the green side of the sponge.

Alice shakes her head, her chin propped up on her hands. “No. Can you still play?”

Emily glances back at her, nodding and placing the plate back in the sink.

“You  _ want _ me to play a song? Are you joking?” She wipes her hands off on her jeans. She’s used to Tommy and Elliot playing pranks on her, pretending that they wanted her to do something just to make fun of her. Then again, they were young boys then. Emily expected them to be rotten every now and again. But now they’re that age where they refuse to take a shower or wear deodorant, swear at school, or lock their rooms at night to watch porn on the iPad (graciously replaced by Jesse before he ditched town again). And Alice has never had a close bond with with Emily. They talked, they banded together as the only women in the house, but they’ve never been close. Alice loves her grandma, Tommy and Elliot love their “uncle” Jesse when he’s around (and they all agree that they never liked Miles).

Alice shakes her head quickly. “Nah. That’d be a weird thing to think about, don’t ya think?” She pulls her hair out of the elastic, putting it in her pocket.

Emily shrugs. “I dunno. I’m just used to you talking to me is all.” She doesn’t let herself sound upset. She says it more matter-of-factly.

“I don’t mean to not talk to you. It’s just…I don’t know.” She jumps at breaking the awkward tension in the room. “I don’t want you to feel like I hate you.”

Emily walks out to the garage, bringing in a stained guitar case. She gestures with her chin for Alice to follow. “We don’t gotta y’all about it right now. Just sit down.”

They sit on the couch, Emily pulls out the guitar and plucks each string, tuning as she goes along. Alice watches, sitting across from Emily with her, knees folded up to her chest.

“What song did you used to play?” Alice peeps, and Emily begins to strum.

“I think it was Johnny Cash.” Emily only knows one or two songs, but she can play them well. She strums, turning them into chords. Alice doesn’t recognize the song by name, but it pangs her memory.

Her mom looks peaceful playing guitar. She has never peaceful, she hasn’t been since she became a single mom, but the tense lines on her face have faded, and a small smile is holding on her face.

Alice closes her eyes, sitting back and letting a current of familiarity wash over her. She waits for Emily to start singing in her twangy voice, but she never does. Instead, Alice fills in the gaps with childhood memories. Her voice was soft, and it warbled when she tried to hold a note. She’d never win American Idol with that voice, but she didn’t need to when just remembering Emily’s singing brings back warmth she hasn’t felt since she was little.

Emily’s smile grows when she notices Alice’s grin, and she continues to play.

By the time she finishes the song, Alice is watching her intently, a goofy grin on her face. They sit in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company for a quiet moment. Quiet is so rare in their house to begin with, it feels like a dream.

Though, when Tommy bursts in, the dream dissipates. He’s yelling about needing to get a skateboard because all of his friends have them, how he looks lame walking everywhere. And when she looks around to find Alice, she’s nearly in the bathroom, kicking off her socks. And suddenly everything is back to normal again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don’t like this one shot, or the next one, but i’ve been holding out on posting this one because i didn’t feel it was strong enough on its own. so, hopefully two mediocre one shots equate to one decent ficlet~


	5. Xylophone Track

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a quickly-written mess. i don’t like it, but the concept was kind of funny.

It took hours before the train finally stopped coming, though he couldn’t tell by the sun or the clock. His fantasy is always high noon, it only makes sense for it to be high noon.

“Where is it?” Jesse asks, standing on the track and squinting into the distance. He can’t find it, no matter how hard he looks. Maybe it’s coming from the other way? But why would it do that? It always arrives on their left, no other way.

His spurs jingle, and he placed a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. When he turns back to him, they’re in a dark little room, with nothing more than a bed and a lantern inside it. He looks up at him, maybe he’s allowed to call him John, but it didn’t seem respectful enough.

“Gone, kid. Gone fer good, till ya wake up.” When he passes Jesse by, he’s suddenly on the bed, Jesse sitting in his lap.

His legs are spread on either side of his waist, his pants have been discarded elsewhere. Jesse feels worried a moment, until he’s hushed, told to “keep calm, if ya know what’s good fer ya.”

Jesse stops questioning it. He’s enormous, while Jesse feels like a small child sitting on his dad’s lap. And the second the word “dad” crosses his mind, he forces himself to stop thinking. That’s another dream that he doesn’t want to invite right now. Somehow, this shit actually has him hard.

In a moment, he’s being thrust into. It takes the wind out of him, he gasps or chokes, he’s unsure. But, the immediate shock dissolves quickly, he brings himself back up by resting his hands on his thighs, trying to support his own weight.

He just gets bigger and bigger, he’s nearly the size of a boat. He says nothing, nothing that Jesse can make out as English, anyway. “Is that Spanish?” He asks between grunts, yet he doesn’t respond. His cock somehow isn’t tearing Jesse apart, it’s actually a feasible size that fits into Jesse’s ass (not like he knows shit about getting fucked up the ass).

He squeezes his eyes shut, gripping his thighs tighter. His lack of opposition to this is genuinely confusing, yet he can’t say he hates it. Wouldn’t do it again, likely, but it’s fine.

Whatever he’s saying, it sounds like a tape being rewound. Jesse doesn’t waste anymore time trying to decipher what he’s saying, instead he looks down, noticing his shirt is gone, save for the collar and cassock. It’s like they’re growths coming from his collarbone, yet he isn’t terrified by that, either. The most bizarre thing is that he’s still wearing his boots, spurs likely digging into his skin, and his massive white cowboy hat.

“Giddyap!” He says once, testing to see if he likes it, than continues, bucking his hips and pushing his cock deeper into his ass, yowling like a cat.

He has his hat in one hand, waving it in the air and screaming, laughing hysterically. “Faster!”

Jesse isn’t sure that it’s pleasurable, but he enjoys how it makes him feel free.

When he looks up, his head is miles into the air, obscured by clouds. Jesse can’t see his face, though he’s not sure he wants to. He places a hand on his hip, like it’s a rein, and he kicks a spur into his leg, yipping as he does most of the work, like he’s riding a rubber cock stuck onto the floor. He tries to test if it can go deeper, but the second he thinks this, he feels it growing longer and harder, in a way that it shouldn’t be able to.

Jesse throws his head back, cackling. He’s on the verge of cumming. He looks at him, finding that he’s a regular size, once more. Yet, he’s wearing a mask.

“This certainly won’t be getting you into Heaven, my child,” the mask speaks, muffled. Jesse feels himself being filled up, his eyes are practically bugging out of his head.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, yet he still cums onto God’s stomach. His whole body is glowing, it’s blinding. Jesse is thrown onto the ground, he looks up at God with massive eyes.

“Jesse,  _ wake up.” _ When he opens his eyes, he sees Tulip, her face filling his vision. He doesn’t immediately smile, though it comes to creep on his face the longer he stares. “Done having your wet dream?”

Jesse laughs, before sitting up, noticing he’s still hard.  _ What the fuck? _

She’s grinning, and he’s covering his cock, glaring at her for a second. “What, you haven’t been dreaming about fucking God, too?” He hopes she either takes it as a joke, or divulges her own sexy dreams.

Tulip looks disgusted a moment, the look fading to a smile when she throws a pillow at him. “That’s nasty.”

He pulls her down on top of him, kissing her and making her squeal. “I had God’s cock in my ass, doesn’t that get you off?”

“Jesse, stop it! That’s disgusting!” She laughs, shaking her head and trying to free herself from his arms.

Jesse and Tulip wrestle each other, she tries to get him to let go of her, he tries to bring her into bed with him. “C’mon, Jody needed you to do something. Tell him about your God-fucking dreams, he’ll  _ love _ them.” She teases, her eyes glimmering.

Tulip does eventually beat him, tearing him out of bed and forcing him into his clothes. He kisses her once more, smirking at her. “Where do you think we could get one of those latex dog suits? You think I’d look good in one of those?”

Jesse rubs his hands up and down her hips, and she grins. “You’d look great. But how about you leave before we get killed by these hillbillies, huh?”


End file.
